


Repossessed

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor’s recalled.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86





	Repossessed

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Hank answers the door, swinging it open with an irritated grunt, because he shouldn’t have any visitors at eleven at night and he doesn’t normally have _any_ visitors at all. He doesn’t have any friends anymore. Maybe Jeffrey counts, but Jeffrey would just see him in the morning at the station. Or afternoon.

Or evening, since what’s the point of even showing up anymore now that his partner’s been recalled. 

Except that partner’s standing there on the doorstep, soaked through with the rain, his brown hair dyed darker and slick across his forehead. His normally pristine grey suit is slightly disheveled and dripping from the ends. The white shirt underneath is practically transparent and glued against his skin. He looks at Hank like a puppy that’s been kicked too many times, and he pitifully asks, “May I come in?”

Hank doesn’t even waste time saying yes. He just steps aside, making room, and Connor shuffles inside, all the usual bravado gone from his stiff shoulders. He’s been growing steadily more emotional since the start of their partnership, but it’s still strange to see him so overtly _affected_ by anything. Hank understands. He keeps his mouth shut as he locks the door and leads Connor over into the hall, but his insides are clenching tight. He was sure he would never see Connor again, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. 

He throws Connor a towel from the bathroom and then diverts into the nearby bedroom, plopping down onto the mattress to hear the explanation. Connor’s not supposed to be at Hank’s. Not that Hank’s complaining. 

Connor ruffles his hair and swiftly, efficiently dabs away what water he can. Hank belatedly realizes that Connor must’ve shed his shoes by the door. His socks still make a puddle on the floor. Connor folds the towel neatly and tosses it to a nearby chair: a perfect shot. That’s why Hank doesn’t watch android-filled sports. Then Connor walks right up to Hank, so close that his legs hit Hank’s knees, and he breathes, “I need you to buy me.”

Hank blinks up at him. “What?”

“I’m going to be decommission. _Replaced_. I failed my mission. They’ve already built a better model of me. The only reason I haven’t been dismantled yet is that they’re still deciding what parts to salvage for spares.”

Hank swallows. A part of him knew that would happen, but he was trying so hard not to think about it—trying to believe a fantasy that Connor was still _fine_ , just _gone_. He doesn’t understand how CyberLife could be so _heartless_.

He watches Connor slowly sink down, lowering to the carpet, kneeling before Hank and looking up with wide, pleading eyes as though Hank isn’t already completely on his side. Hank’s been an asshole about it. He knows that. But Connor saved him too many times for them to _not_ have a bond deeper than Hank’s gruff attitude. Connor goes on, “The only solution I can see is if I’m sold for more than my parts are worth. I’m not a deviant, not defective—they can still sell me. Maybe if it’s you, they’ll see it as a gesture of good will to the police force after they sent an android that couldn’t complete its mission in the first place. Maybe...” Connor trails off, which again is _odd_ : a mannerism no android should have.

Connor’s a million things a machine shouldn’t be. It’s too much for Hank to handle sometimes. He mutters, “Jesus Christ, Connor... I can’t afford you.”

“But I’ll be worth it,” Connor insists, like _that_ was the protest, when really, it has nothing to do with merit. Hank’s just got a policeman’s salary, and that’s nothing. Connor lifts his hands to Hank’s knees, squeezing them lightly as he leans forward over Hank’s lap, earnest and helpless. “I can’t help on cases in an official capacity anymore, but if I’m your _personal_ android, I can assist in an unofficial way. And I can cook and clean and take care of Sumo. I can satisfy all of your needs. Even—”

Hank drops a hand over Connor’s and stops the offer before it can go any further, into something that wouldn’t be _right_. He tries again, “Connor, I _want_ to. But I just don’t know if I _can_.”

“Try. Give CyberLife the option. _Please._ ”

Hank’s entire bank account must be _nothing_ to CyberLife. He could throw every coin he has at them, and it won’t amount to anything—like ants trying to demolish a skyscraper. But Hank looks into Connor’s eyes and sees a _person_ , maybe not a human being, but a man that Hank’s come to know and respect. And maybe one he couldn’t live without. His gun’s still in the drawer, but it’s loaded, and the alcohol is all over the kitchen from where he tried to drown that out. He wasn’t going to last long without Connor anyway. 

Sumo pads into the room while Hank’s still thinking. He wanders to Connor and nestles into Connor’s side. Connor bends down to hug him. 

The sight is too adorable and heartbreaking. It makes up Hank’s mind. He pushes off the bed and shuffles around Connor—Connor swiftly rises to his feet and follows Hank like the good little poodle he’s always been. Hank mutters on the way to the door, “At least we know where Kamski lives.”

“He no longer owns CyberLife.”

“Yeah, but they’ll still listen to him, and he’s more likely to listen to us than a whole corporation.”

Hank fetches his coat and shrugs into it. He straightens it out and tells Connor, “We’re going there, and this time, we’ll do whatever that bastard wants, because we’re not letting anyone kick you out of my life.”

Visibly relieved, Connor nods. He all but whispers, “Thank you, Lieutenant. I look forward to being _yours_.”

Hank stares. Maybe he does too. Maybe he just wants Connor to be free and happy and the two of them solving crime _just because_ , not for any big mission. 

He has just enough wherewithal to grab his wallet on the way out, and then they’re gone into the rain.


End file.
